


53XB07 5H3N4N164N5

by kogimaru



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Double Penetration, M/M, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Riding, Sex Robots, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-22 20:27:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4849382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kogimaru/pseuds/kogimaru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack persuades Rhys to use his personal sex robot, Jack proceeds to get jealous of said robot, and then Rhys gets fucked in many different ways. Still probably not what you're expecting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	53XB07 5H3N4N164N5

“Rhys!” Jack’s voice startles Rhys from idly flipping through the papers at his desk. He looks up to see Jack wheeling a box of some sort into the office on a dolly. “I got somethin’ for you, kiddo! Get over here.”

Rhys squints his eyes in suspicion and slowly gets out of Jack’s chair, quirking an eyebrow when Jack overrides the office door so that no one can enter. Rhys gets a dirty look when he doesn’t come to Jack quick enough, but the mood seems light enough for him to risk a cheeky smirk as he takes his time getting there.

Jack makes a show of ignoring him and nudges the box off of the dolly, then walks around it to press a button on its front. The case opens with a hiss, revealing a pastel yellow robot with soft humanoid curves. The bot’s head is small and rounded except for the flat plane of its face where two little blue ocular units sit symmetrical to each other. It’s inactive, from what Rhys can tell. Jack stands back and places his hands on his hips, staring at Rhys expectantly with a smarmy grin on his face.

“What is it?” Rhys leans into observe the bot, running a finger over its protruded aesthetic clavicle while he switches on his golden ECHO eye to get a reading.

“Well, I was cleaning out my office at home, and I found this little guy sitting in the corner. I didn’t know what it was at first. Well, actually I had no idea it even existed. Must have been put there by the me that died, but this definitely seems like something I created.” Jack leans in next to Rhys to tinker with a port under the bot’s rounded chin, pressing a tiny rectangle that then pops out a chip. Jack shows the chip to Rhys so that he can see the H.J. printed loudly over the “coded by” section of the label sticker. “You’re not gonna believe this, Rhysie, I was a freakin’ genius. It’s a-“

“A sex robot?” Rhys rolls his eyes, not in the slightest bit surprised.

“Friggin’ yes, cupcake!” Jack’s excitement isn’t deflated at all. In fact, he seems a little too impressed with himself. “Isn’t that awesome? Why wasn’t I marketing this shit before?”

“Er, I think you were, actually. Just not on Helios?” Rhys is observing the port under the chin now, trying hard not to break anything since the bot’s skeleton looked a little aged from sitting in a box for a few years. “Do you think this thing still works? It looks a little outdated.”

“I have no idea. I don’t have any memories of this so not many people knew about it, probably. Means it needs maintenance, right?” Jack pulls one of the bot’s arms out and waves at Rhys with it. Rhys takes it from him delicately, making sure Jack didn’t stress the joint. Jack tsks at him and watches Rhys tinker away with the bot’s body in that typical concerned parent way he has about machines. Annoyingly gentle, but cute in a boring kind of way.

Jack pops the program chip into the bot’s chin again, and feels around the neck joint for an activation switch of some kind. “There,” Rhys points Jack to a tiny flat button between the bot’s eyes that was nearly invisible in the shadow of their bodies hovering near. Jack presses it and holds it down until a light flashes and flutters into bot’s eyes. The bot’s head jolts up and its body whirrs with its start-up.

“Initiating startup protocol.” Jack nudges Rhys with his elbow. The robot’s voice is clipped and unrefined, cutting each of its syllables a little too short to sound natural. “Good Evening, Handsome. How might I assist you today?”

“Heeeey, sexbot! How’s it going, buddy?” Rhys closes his eyes and sighs in frustration, “Hey, uhm, you think you could tell me when you were last active?”

“Yes, Jack,” Jack and Rhys both raise their eyebrows at the bot’s casual use of Jack’s name, “Last activity logged precisely 840.057 days ago. Continue last session?”

“Oh, no. That’s okay.”

“Initiate Load-Frame protocol?” A series of code flashes behind the bot’s eyes as it readies its database. “Last active Fame ID: R1D3 3M C0W61RL.”

Jack begins laughing so hard he has to grab Rhys’ shoulder to stable himself. Rhys is thoroughly confused and annoyed but allows Jack to finish before he bothers asking. When he does stop laughing, Jack grabs both of Rhys’ shoulders and pulls him in front of the bot. “Actually, could you like, scan this guy or something?”

“Sure thing, Jack! Initiating New-Frame protocol. Scan initializing.” The robot’s eyes blink in confirmation, a light blue laser swiveling over Rhys’ body. “Body scan, complete. Please speak to scan voice output.”

“Wait, what?” Rhys is not sure about the robot scanning him.

“Voice scan, complete. Building frame. Average render time: .83 seconds. Wait one moment, please.” The bot’s eyes grow fuzzy with code and its body buzzes all over in a low hum.

“Jack…why did you make it scan me? H-how does this sexbot work, exactly? Because, I’m not sure I-” Rhys’ voice falters as Jack’s arms come to snake around his front, pulling the younger man back against his chest.

“Shh shh shh,” Jack’s mouth curls against Rhys’ ear, making him shiver uncomfortably at the sudden intimacy. They’d done worse things in the office already, sure, but Rhys usually felt on edge in cold, sterile settings like this. Especially when Jack decided to spontaneously touch him. “Let’s see how operational this bot is, hmm?”

The sound of the bot unlatching itself from the box distracts Rhys from the questions sitting on his tongue. It steps out rigidly, a thin antenna sprouting from its round head and casting a glitchy blue light over its body.

“Rendering newly scanned-form. Applying synthetic cover.” The blue light flashes into a vaguely human shape before the form slowly grows less blurry and looks more and more like…well, Rhys. No surprise there. The blue light fades as Rhys’ form comes into completion, but never really fades away. The bot had the modesty to render Rhys with underwear, at least. He’s a spitting image despite the usual mis-matched eyes being the same translucent blue as the cover of the robot’s optical lenses.

“My, my,” Jack croons, guiding Rhys towards the bot from behind with the direction of his body as he steps forward. “That’s a…pretty accurate render.” Jack reaches out to the bot’s new body and presses his hands to the duplicate of Rhys’ tummy all too naturally. “Rhys, feel this.”

Rhys makes a disapproving noise but does so anyways, mostly because he’s super curious no matter how weird this is quickly becoming. Rhys is honestly surprised by how real the synthetic flesh feels, because as far as he can tell, it’s not DNA-based. When Rhys touches his duplicated chrome arm, he is incapable of holding in his awe. “Holy shit.”

“I know, right?” Jack pinches the flesh softly, making Rhys blush a little at the gesture he usually experiences feeling with his own body. “Say it, I’m a genius. Man, what is this stuff made out of?”

Mostly a rhetorical question, but the bot chimes in, “Multi-fiber flesh synthetic, S-type, variant: human.” The flat, detached voice coming from Rhys mouth sounds strange although it’s a perfect mimic, “Is this render acceptable, Jack?

“Oh-ho, very acceptable.” Rhys notices that Jack squeezes eagerly at his waist a little and his worries suddenly begin to feel less overwhelming.

“Very well. Requesting file name for new render.” A blue screen flickers out in front of the fake Rhys, a set of keys awaiting Jack’s input. Jack thinks on it for a moment before quickly typing something in and pressing the enter key so fast that Rhys doesn’t have the time to read it. “Requesting confirmation. Is the ID name 1D107, acceptable?”

“Hey…” Rhys leers at Jack over his shoulder, pressing back against him playfully.

“Yeah, fine. I’m gonna call you Rhys when you’re in this frame, got that?” Jack strokes the hair of fake-Rhys, although it doesn’t elicit a response.

“Understood. Requesting mood and arousal preferences.”

“Oh, right,” Jack just shrugs, murmuring into real-Rhys’ ear. “How am I supposed to set something like that?”

“Er,” Rhys bits his lip in concentration, “Well, we could just...show him…it?”

“Rhysie,” Jack’s chuckle is devious and makes Rhys’ skin crawl. In a good way. “This is why I keep you around, kitten.” Jack reaches around him and slides a firm hand onto his crotch, making real-Rhys startle a little. “Pay attention, Sexbot.”

“Yes, Jack.” Rhys tries to focus on Jack’s hand and not the creepy fake-Rhys eyes glued to his face. It’s actually pretty difficult, and to Rhys’ relief, Jack notices him struggling to process.

“Relax,” Jack’s voice is low and soft on his ears, making him exhale a breathy sigh he wasn’t aware he was holding in.

Jack unbuttons Rhys’ pants, sliding them down far enough to get a hold on his flaccid dick. Despite the tiny sense of dread he has about the whole situation, Rhys needs Jack to know that he’s okay with this. Despite how ridiculous and weird it all is. He raises the hem of his shirt so that it doesn’t get in the way of Jack’s hand, earning a throaty chuckle of approval.

“See this?” Jack’s other hand catches Rhys throat and forces his chin up. “These pretty pink cheeks, right here.” Jack squeezes Rhys’ hardening cock, making him moan lightly as if to prove his point. “Got it, cupcake? Just watch for a bit. And don’t use any robot-y words, okay? That shit’s annoying.”

“Understood, Jack.” The fake-Rhys blinks his eyes a few times before a subtle haze of recognition falls over them in a way that makes them seem real. Fake-Rhys’ voice is less formal-sounding, as well, but still slightly monotone. “Is it appropriate to touch this…Rhysie?”

Jack laughs and Rhys squeezes his eyes shut in embarrassment. “Go ahead, kiddo.” Rhys squirms as Jack’s hand releases his cock, trying not to look at himself as his duplicate takes it into his flesh hand instead, stroking it firmly. The feeling is so similar, it’s technically no different than jerking off, really. He had committed himself to doing some weird things for Jack before, but this was definitely at the top of his list.

“Jack…” Rhys gives Jack a worried look over his shoulder, his hips thrusting forward despite his intention to express concern. Jack scratches along Rhys’ tummy with his free hand, pressing his clothed erection against Rhys’ ass. He was a lot harder than Rhys thought he’d be and that derails him from his complaints entirely.

“Rhys,” Jack’s breaks eye contact to stare at fake-Rhys, who looks up from his task obediently. The lack of Jack’s acknowledgement while still using his name makes Rhys whimper quietly to himself.

“Yes, Jack?” Rhys finally risks looking at his duplicate, surprised by the realistic flush of his high cheekbones and the pout of his mouth as he breathes. It’s like looking in a really sexy mirror. Rhys is so fucked.

“Be a good boy and give Rhysie some kisses.” Fake-Rhys reaches out and places a gentle hand on Rhys’ face to guide himself in for a few chaste kisses. Rhys can’t help from smiling at the cute attempt and feels embolded by the bot’s uncertainty.

“Is this satisfactory, Jack?” Rhys takes his duplicate by the chin and, without letting him finish, kisses him hard before making a show of sliding his tongue obscenely between fake-Rhys’ pliant lips. Jack curses into Rhys’ ear, grabbing him hard by the hips with both hands. Rhys is pretty amazed by the texture of fake-Rhys’ mouth and can’t tell the difference from his own or Jack’s besides a lack of heat. Even the taste is similar.

Rhys breaks the kiss to breathe, and while fake-Rhys doesn’t technically need to breathe, his body still mimics the motions of Rhys’ arousal. “Like this.”

“Understood,” Fake-Rhys meets Rhys in another messy kiss, Jack getting really growly and impatient watching them over Rhys’ shoulder.

“Look at you, Rhysie.” Jack shuffles off Rhys’ jacket and tosses it onto floor in typically frustrated-Jack manner. “Bein’ all sexy, making out with yourself.” Rhys glares at Jack over his shoulder as fake-Rhys takes to sucking on his neck.

“This was your idea.” There’s no way for him to sound mean like he wants with Jack’s Rhys-clone stroking his dick.

“Nah, its fine. I’d totally fuck myself, too.” Rhys’ dry laugh is cut off by Jack tugging his shirt up and over his head for him, leaving him in just his tight black undershirt. Jack runs his hands down Rhys’ sides until they rest at his hips again, winking at Rhys when their eyes meet once more, smiling deviously when the younger man can’t hold his gaze and turns away to blush.

Jack reaches around and pushes fake-Rhys away from Rhys’ neck to get his attention. “Slow down, buddy.” Rhys and Jack both catch sight of the sexbot’s imitation hard-on tenting his defaulted synthetic underwear. Jack whispers into Rhys’ ear, “Nice.”

Brushing Jack’s hand away, Rhys reaches forward and grabs fake-Rhys’ by the wrist, much more gently. The idea of being mean to himself is hardly appealing; he will leave that to Jack. “Can you lubricate yourself, uh, Rhys?” Wincing, Rhys notes that that will be the weirdest thing he will ever recall saying to himself.

“Yes. I am capable of providing lubrication. Rhysie.” Rhys wants to deny that he thinks the sexbot’s AI is kind of adorable, or maybe it’s just because the AI is currently wearing his face, but he can’t. He squeezes fake-Rhys’ hand as an expression of understanding, but why he’s worried about not hurting a robot is beyond him.

“Let’s take this to the couch, gentlemen.” Jack guides them to a gray sofa near the bookshelves of his office, Rhys hobbling to keep up with his unfastened pants slowly sliding down his slender legs.

Just as Rhys kicks his pants and underwear all the way off, Jack yanks him down into his lap hard. Rhys sighs and grumbles at how rough Jack is being, but knows that this is just his way of getting attention. Rhys maneuvers around to straddle Jack’s hips as he removes the man’s sweater. Fake-Rhys eyes them obediently from the side, hazy blue irises contracting with each movement he reads and learns from.

“Listen, Rhys.” Jack suddenly grab’s real-Rhys’ hip and forces him around to face fake-Rhys, holding his thighs wide open. Naturally, Rhys attempts to shut them, but relents when Jack grabs his cock and begins stroking him back to a full hardness. “Use your mouth on Rhysie, here. No teeth, no biting.” For a moment Rhys thinks that he sees a flicker of genuine intent in fake-Rhys’ eyes as he stares down where Jack is languidly pumping Rhys’ cock. “You damage the goods and you’re scrap, alright, buddy?”

“Yes, Jack.” Nope, fake-Rhys definitely looked like he wanted a cock in his mouth. Rhys wasn’t imagining that. He knows this is all just an imitation, but god is it sexy. Rhys moans when the slippery wet mouth slides over his erection, the lack of heat usually associated with a real mouth feeling strange and exciting. The sexbot can apparently generate lube from its mouth as well, because the slick clear substance sliding down Rhys’ dick is definitely not saliva. Jack removes his hand from Rhys and catches some of the slick off of fake-Rhys’ chin. Rhys is too distracted to notice Jack’s movements and cries out when Jack suddenly hooks a hand underneath him and slides a finger against his entrance.

“See that face, Rhysie?” Rhys flinches at Jack’s low murmur in his ear, unable to tear his gaze away from fake-Rhys swallowing down on his cock. Jack presses a finger into him and immediately finds his prostate, flicking against it knowingly. “That’s what I see,” Fake-Rhys is glancing up at them, swirling his slick tongue over the head of Rhys’ cock. Choking back a pathetic moan, Rhys tangles his shaky fingers into the bot’s hair, guiding his head back down over his erection gently with both hands. “Every time you’ve got your snarky little mouth around my cock. Nice, isn’t it?”

“W-wait, I’m-” Rhys is too close to last much longer at this point. Trying to tug fake-Rhys from his dick is a fruitless effort, although he does genuinely try for all but a second. Jack takes the hold of fake-Rhys’s hair and pulls him onto Rhys’ cock all of the way, grinding his own hardness against the Rhys sitting in his lap, demanding to be noticed.

Fake-Rhys gives a satisfied noise, as though he were truly enjoying himself, “Swallow it.” There’s an edge of anger in Jack’s voice that makes Rhys’ spine feel like jelly. Rhys comes with a shudder, whimpering while fake-Rhys continues to clean his softening cock with small licks. Jack withdraws his fingers from Rhys and takes to petting himself through his pants, a mix of impatience and arousal creasing his lips in a frown.

Rhys doesn’t bother letting himself relax just yet, since Jack wouldn’t have it, regardless. He crawls out of Jack’s lap, patting fake-Rhys’ head softly in appreciation, before inching forward and pressing their lips together again. Fake-Rhys is definitely better at kissing this time around.

“Rhys,” Jack is pressed against his back immediately, ghosting his breathe along the nape of Rhys’ neck.

“Yes, Jack?” Fake-Rhys immediately perks up to attention.

“Ugh, not you, idiot.” Jack shoots a childish glare at the bot, who thinks nothing of it, then wraps his arms around Rhys’ waist and squeezes him uncomfortably hard. “Rhysie. Babe. I didn’t bring our little friend out to play just to be ignored, pumpkin, huh?”

Rhys sighs in frustration, slipping out of Jack’s arms and shuffling past fake-Rhys so the confused bot sat between them. Rhys ignores Jack’s offended looks and grabs fake-Rhys’ shoulders, leaning in to speak into his ear, loud enough for Jack to catch on.

“Hey, Rhys?” Rhys paces himself with a deep breath, uncertain he’s literally capable of saying what he wants to say next. He’s certainly not the one usually giving orders, so this all feels strange and new to him. But dangerously enticing at the same time. “Jack and I are going to fuck you. At the same time. Is that okay?” Rhys glances over to Jack in case he has any protests, and is bolstered by the lack of any mean frowns. “Just. Relax, and…do your lube thing. A lot.”

“Understood.” Fake-Rhys’s face seems to grow a few shades redder as he spreads his legs out towards Jack, then tucks his knees to his chest, presenting himself without a moment’s hesitation or shame. Rhys waits patiently for Jack’s response, but offers fake-Rhys some friendly encouragement just in case.

“He really likes it if you say please.” Rhys’s comment earns a questionable leer from Jack, who shifts around, still uncertain. Rhys slings an arm over fake-Rhys’ shoulder and pulls him closer, taking the bot’s soft earlobe between his teeth, his eyes never leaving Jack’s.

Fake-Rhys responds to the touch with a very convincing moan, tilting his head so that Rhys can suckle his ear more easily. “Please, Jack.”

“Yeah. Please, Jack?” Rhys mimics the plea, his playful smirk betraying his overly-seductive tone. Jack sneers at him before crawling over fake-Rhys’ body. He glares at Rhys one more time before turning his attention to the Rhys beneath him, taking him by the chin with a rough hand.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Jack grins deceptively, his tone dripping like honey. Rhys knows he’s messing with Jack’s patience, but that’s the best part. “You needed me?”

“Yes, Jack.” Fake-Rhys’ hips jolt suddenly, mewling as Rhys wraps his hand around his leaky erection and pumps him steadily. “Please.”

“I got you, pumpkin. Don’t worry.” Jack slides two fingers into fake-Rhys’ mouth, which he immediately tries to suck on, then frees his flagging erection, using fake-Rhys’ synthetic lube-saliva to stroke it until it’s slick and hard again.

“You go first.” Rhys, not quite ready to get it up again, grins at Jack over fake-Rhys’ shoulder, only getting stern silence in return.

When Jack is ready, he grabs fake-Rhys’ arm and pulls him into his lap, palming the duplicate’s soft ass cheeks as he settles in. Jack chuckles to himself, purposefully leaving Rhys out of a joke that probably isn’t even that funny to being with. Rolling his eyes, Rhys continues to watch as Jack slides a finger into his clone. The fake-Rhys takes it with a whimper, rolling his hips down impatiently.

“Another, Jack. You cannot harm me.” Fake-Rhys sounds desperate, and Rhys is sort of impressed he took that advice so well. Jack seems surprised, too, and adds another finger, slowing to a stop while gradual realization crosses his face.

“Hah, I get it. You’re already wet for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?” That’s certainly a phrase that piques Rhys’ interest. And his dick. He is confused when he sees Jack wiggling his hips and line his cock up with fake-Rhys’ entrance. Before he can ask, Jack pushes the clone down onto his cock by the shoulders, bottoming out with a satisfying groan. He chuckles deep in his throat, “Damn, that’s good. Feels kinda of like…a fleshlight?”

Oh. Right. Self-lubrication. Rhys scoots up behind the two, readying himself to the pleasant sounds of fake-Rhys’ moans.

“Slow down, pumpkin.” Jack softly chides fake-Rhys with a breathy laugh, trying to calm the squirming hips attempting to ride his cock.

“Rhys,” Rhys reaches down to feel for how Jack has entered fake-Rhys’ body, brushing against Jack’s erection as he edges a finger in around it. Jack just sighs in acknowledgement, still trying to give Rhys the cold shoulder. “I’m uh, coming in now, so...”

“Understood,” Fake-Rhys somehow remains professional even though he sounds absolutely wrecked. Rhys nudges in slowly at first, stretching the edge of his clone’s tight hole as gently as he can. He’s not sure if he even needs to be careful, since Jack seems unconcerned. But then again, Jack seems unconcerned about most things.

Jack wiggles out a little to accommodate Rhys’ length, both of them slowly sliding in tandem until they are seated comfortably, the wet drip of lubrication slicking them along smoothly. Rhys has to agree with the likeness of the sexbot’s insides feeling like a fleshlight, except impossibly tighter.

Jack’s impatient demand breaks through the sluggish atmosphere, “Move, Rhys.” Not sure which Rhys Jack is talking to, Rhys thrusts experimentally into the tight, slippery mess that begins to writhe on top of him. Fake-Rhys is obedient, as well, panting with each attempt he makes to move himself on their cocks. Rhys wraps an arm around and grabs his clone by the throat, using it as leverage to bury himself further, much in the same way Jack usually does to him.

Since he usually doesn’t get the chance to see Jack’s reactions, Rhys watches him shyly over fake-Rhys’ shoulder. Jack had a “thing” about sex face-to-face, or even just eye contact in general. Watching Jack lose all trace of composure he usually had over his facial expressions made Rhys understand why. Fringe damp with a growing sweat that stuck out of place and onto his forehead, Jack’s lips were drawn open in a way that made Rhys’s mouth go dry. His mismatched eyes, focused on where he and Rhys were joined in the sexbot’s imitation body, would occasionally flutter shut with every moan he tried not to spill so obviously.

Rhys quickly looks away when Jack notices his staring, his heart pounding hard in his chest at the thought of having been caught, although he knew he had been. There was no particular significance in staring at a person so closely, Rhys told himself, as he readied a series of excuses in his head. Maybe just a little creepy, though. Jack’s grips him by the arm, squeezing him slightly to get his attention. When Rhys nervously glances over again, Jack is eyeing him hungrily. Rhys knows this look well, and cranes his neck to reach for Jack’s lips by habit. When they kiss, it’s far too brief and chaste for Rhys to be satisfied when they part, so he motions for the contact once more, pleading with his best puppy eyes that he won’t be rejected. Jack shifts around to adjust himself with the body between them, squishing close enough to slide his chin over fake-Rhys’ shoulder. Rhys tentatively raises his unoccupied hand to brush along Jack’s jaw before leaning in and diving tongue-first between his awaiting lips. Jack groans in appreciation, thrusting harder into fake-Rhys’ body, making both of his Rhys’s moan in unison.

Jack breaks from the kiss once more, despite Rhys’ protests, and takes the sexbot’s thighs up over his forearms, spreading him wider. “Hold his arms back.” Jack stares pointedly at Rhys so that he knows he’s addressing him. Hesitant, Rhys takes fake-Rhys’ arms from where they are braced on Jack’s shoulders and twists them gently behind his back, holding him steady. With a labored grunt, Jack drastically increases the speed of his thrusts, racing frantically towards his own orgasm. “Fuck.”

As soon as Jack comes, so does Rhys’ double. The physical orgasm is pretty reminiscent of Rhys’ earlier release, except that the bot’s string of cum is the same clear fluid it uses to lubricate itself. It’s satisfying to feel and see, none the less, but it isn’t stimulating enough for Rhys to come a second time around.

After a few composing breathes, Jack slides from fake-Rhys’ body, the bot slouching forward in Rhys’ hold, and leans back onto his palms with a satisfied grin. “Gonna finish up, pumpkin?”

“Uhm, I-” Rhys slides himself out as well, his voice sounding drained, even to him. “I think I’m good, actually.”

“Hmm,” Jack gives him a critical once over, but thankfully lets it go, “If you say so.” Rhys gently helps his duplicate straighten up. “So how do we deactivate you?”

“Jack.” Rhys scolds him half-heartedly.

“Requesting inquiry. Are you satisfied with your session, Jack?” Fake-Rhys returns to his straight and business-like manner.

“Uuuh, yeah?” Jack sneers lazily, fiddling with the buttons of the pants still bunched tightly above his knees.

“Great! Thank you for using your 53XB07 today. Please allow 7 to 8 hours for proper sanitization before using your 53XB07 unit again. Farewell.” Fake-Rhys climbs back into his box, which closes by itself, an opaque red lettering flashing in a line across the top reads SANITIZING. There’s a blue flash from the creases of the door before the red letters stop blinking and the office falls quiet again.

“Oh, god.” Rhys buries his face into his hands, “You literally named it sexbot?”

“Guess so!” Jack falls onto his back in giggles and pulls his pants up without bothering to button them. Rhys tries not to smile, but he did in fact just have a semi-unsuccessful threesome with a robot programmed for sex. Not many people would find themselves in this situation without a laugh.

Rhys gets up and retrieves a pair of sweats he keeps stashed in the office’s custodial closet for the days Jack is feeling particularly spontaneous, and tugs them on, attempting to ignore his persistent hard-on that isn’t going away as quickly as he was hoping it would. Pacing around to gather their clothes doesn’t help it either, and eventually Rhys is bothered enough to remove his sweat-sticky undershirt, hoping the chilly office air would distract him.

Shivering slightly, Rhys takes a seat on the couch by Jack’s feet, pulling up the ECHO net screen from the palm of his mechanical hand to check for any messages or updates. Rhys’ noticeable fiddling catches Jack’s attention, and so he sits up and scoots closer, draping an arm over the top of the couch behind Rhys’ shoulders.

“Ya’know, cupcake. You and me can always go a round.” Jack nods casually, “Or two. If you want.”

“I’m fine, thanks.” Rhys crosses his flesh arm over his chest and continues scrolling his browser. Jack tsks at him before clapping a hand over the projection, making it flicker as he takes Rhys’ hand.

“C’mon, I saw the way you were looking at me earlier. I know exactly what you need, cupcake.” Jack places the hand against his chest, attempting to invite him in with touch.

“Ugh, stop. Please.” Rhys uses his other hand to push Jack away as he looms closer, trying to hide any sign of the heat he feels rising in his face.

“Ya’ know, at first, I thought you were just trying to piss me off,” Jack laughs merrily as though there wasn’t a vague threat somewhere in what he just said, brimming with his usual cheeky confidence as he continues to ignore Rhys’ protests.

“Shut up, Jack.” Rhys now attempts to cover Jack’s mouth, but he only has that hand captured as well.

“Oh, but then you stuck your cute little tongue in my mouth and, god I just-.” Jack pulls Rhys in with a gentle ‘oof’. “I just wanted to. Hold you down and fuck your stupid little brains out.” Before Rhys can manage a snarky comment, Jack bites down on the edge of his mouth, sucking the bottom lip between his teeth with a lewd growl. “C’mere, kitten.”

Crawling into his lap, Rhys shimmies his hips into Jack’s touch as the man’s broad hands trail up to grip at Rhys’ ass, kneading it leisurely. Their mouths break away just as Rhys guides Jack down onto his back and straddles over his hips. Taking his time to enjoy the rare feeling of Jack’s lips as Rhys attacks them in a soft barrage of tongue and teeth, his nimble hands slide teasingly along Jack’s stomach and chest.

Breaking from Jack’s mouth to gasp for a small breathe of air, Rhys mumbles between each of his kisses, “Did I- make- You jealous?”

Jack halts Rhys with a hand on his chest long enough to respond, his own lack of air making his slightly spent, “Is that what you were trying to do?” Jack knew the answer to that, but there must have been some novelty in it for him to be asking.

“nng- Yes,” Jack’s hand lands on Rhys’ ass again with a noticeable smack as they return to kissing.

“Then no.” Rhys moans as Jack’s hands squeeze roughly into the fabric of his sweatpants, pulling them down slightly with the pull. Before Jack can voice his impatience, Rhys pulls away unexpectedly, getting up onto his knees. Jack watches with labored breath as the lanky man pulls his sweats down over his ass, leaving his strained erection hitched underneath the front of them.

Pausing for a moment to pull a packet of lube from Jack’s pants pocket with as much innuendo as possible, Rhys rips it open with his teeth and digs two greedy fingers into the entire thing. Jack struggles to keep up with Rhys’ movements, he’s going so quickly. Resting gently over Jack’s chest, Rhys takes the liberty of fingering himself open, wincing at his mindless haste with a stifled groan or two. He’s not nearly prepared as he would usually like to be, but trying to make Jack jealous earlier had made him carelessly horny in the process.

Curving his back to the easiest angle, Rhys sits back, lining up with Jack’s dick and pressing the tip of it into himself with an aggravated sigh. “Shit- careful, pumpkin.” Rhys ignores Jack’s hiss of warning, stirring his hips to a rhythm that works him down Jack’s shaft faster, but not exactly more gentle.

The familiar stretch and burn tears at him vividly for a few seconds as Rhys sits himself down fully on Jack’s cock with a sharp jolt. Jack hisses again, this time his hands reaching out to anchor Rhys by grabbing him by the arms so that he doesn’t tip backwards in the shaky spasm of pain and pleasure that racks his body afterwards. “You gonna listen to me, idiot?” Jack sneers at Rhys’ dumb, flushed, half-lidded expression and tsks.

Rhys doesn’t answer in any intelligible way, anything he might have said replaced with a filthy moan as Jack tightens his grasp on Rhys’ arms and ruts into him harder, driving himself impossibly deeper. Shaking from the stimulation, Rhys makes a valiant attempt at raising up so that he can begin moving, but burns so badly it makes him weak in the knees and his bravado falters quickly. Jack leans up to catch Rhys’s tilting frame with the support of his own.

“-Jack.” Rhys pants, breathless as he presses his nose into the other man’s cheek. His voice wavers, “Just fuck me.”

Jack laughs as though he were expecting as much, “Already tired?” Jack’s voice is gentle but saccharine and the bite he leans in to leave on Rhys’ collarbone leaves an angry red welt there. “Don’t worry, baby, daddy’s got this one.” With a grunt, Jack pulls out of Rhys and helps the younger man down in his place, turning him over to press his face into the cushion of the couch.

“Wait, I-” Rhys struggles to make himself heard with his mouth half muffled in the cushion, “I wanted to see you…”

“This will be easier on you, trust me.” Jack tugs Rhys’ swaying hips up to his, brushing his wet cock against the round of Rhys’ pert ass before sliding himself back in slowly. He then runs a hand down the bend of Rhys’ trembling back, his hips aching to pound the pretty mess underneath him until he screamed and suffered properly for making Jack even contemplate the hypotheticals of feeling jealous. Anger briefly flaring once more, Jack gives a hard thrust to ease his desire to lash out, then, reassured by Rhys’ willful moan, sets an equally harsh pace; broad palms spread wide across Rhys’ ass so that he can watch himself fuck into the younger man’s tight hole.

Rhys relishes the punishment, mewling as Jack slaps his ass once or twice and holds him down by the back of his neck. Clawing at the sheets to anchor the jarring motion of Jack’s harsh pace, Rhys cries Jack’s name brokenly before trembling hard and cumming into the shield of his sweatpants, still tented over his front. Exhausted and whining, Rhys gradually falls limp into the sheets, his cock spent a second time and his mind pleasantly numb from release.

A few irregular thrusts afterwards and Jack comes, too, a curse clenched angrily between his teeth and his forehead pressed against the back of Rhys’ neck as he pulls out to his tip and spends inside. Hasty to catch his breath, Jack’s voice is thick as he leans down and presses a hot kiss behind Rhys’ ear like a reward, “I didn’t even have to touch you, Rhysie.” Jack’s thumb prods at Rhys’ used entrance, playing with the cum he left there, making it drip down the inside of Rhys’ thigh.

“Stop that…”Rhys hisses, gooseflesh rising along the back of his thighs in response to the sensation makes Jack giggle, amused. When he eventually does and straights up to button his pants, Rhys breathes quietly to himself, the frigid air of the office sinking into his naked, cooling skin. Incapable of moving, Rhys brushes his sweaty fringe back into place, “Better than a sexbot, right?” comes his shy confession.

Jack glances over with a scandalous look on his face, about to burst into frustrated laughter, when the flushed cheeks of Rhys’ dour expression softens his response ever-so-slightly. “Sure, pumpkin. Better than a sexbot.” He nods.

Although Rhys doesn’t look at him, Jack can see his face brighten from the side with a small, cocky smile. “Hah. Of course.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was really unexpected and I'm not sure how I feel about it, lol. Mostly I thought that there is just a surprising lack of Rhys trying to be a top and then failing at it, and I think we all know that Rhys is super vain and would totally fuck himself if he had the chance anyways. But, w/e. Enjoy!


End file.
